


Do I Wanna Know

by sharedwithyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angstangstangst, F/M, Mindfuck, Reader-Insert, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:40:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7790794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharedwithyou/pseuds/sharedwithyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mildly inspired by Do I Wanna Know- Arctic Monkeys</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nice to see a new face,” you offered lazily.</p><p>“My brother and I are just in town for a few days.”</p><p>So the short-haired punk was his brother. Hopefully douchebaggery wasn’t in the blood.</p><p>Still, it was nice to hear some honesty. He wouldn’t be sticking around.</p><p>Maybe you’d take this one home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Wanna Know

**Author's Note:**

> so Cas has been getting all the love, and Dean has gotten some, which just leaves Sammy Boy all alone without lovely.
> 
> And he happens to be Pharm's favorite too ;)
> 
> So here, have some angsty fun with Sam. Very Angsty.
> 
> Suspend your disbelief, this is probably inaccurate, and enjoy!
> 
> Reading experience may be greatly enhanced by listening to Do I Wanna Know by the Arctic Monkeys.  
> Hozier has an absofuckinglutely amazing cover of it as well.
> 
> Leave me a comment if you enjoyed, my lovelies!!!
> 
>  
> 
> XOXO Bucky the Angstmaster

 

 

“I don’t normally do this.”

The line was right up there with I swear I know you from somewhere.

Which his friend had tried a few minutes ago.

Maybe they thought you wouldn’t notice, they seemed like they knew how to blend in.

To you, though, they stuck out like a sore thumb.

 

Way, way too goodlooking.

 

This one, at least, looked more sincere. And his floppy hair looked like it would be fun to run your fingers through. Which you probably wouldn’t be able to do if you stayed an arms-length from him, just flirting.

“It’s nice to see a new face,” you offered lazily.

“My brother and I are just in town for a few days.”

So the short-haired punk was his brother. Hopefully douchebaggery wasn’t in the blood.

Still, full disclosure was nice.

Not about what he was doing in a slow town with a look like he’d seen a ghost. Or a few.

That wasn’t your concern.

No, it was nice to hear some honesty. He wouldn’t be sticking around.

Maybe you’d take this one home.

 

“We can take my car.”

“I don’t think your brother would appreciate being left in our poor excuse for a pub.”

“He’ll probably be hanging around for another drink or four.”

You chuckled at his candid comment. Definitely refreshing. “Be that as it may, I’d rather not leave my bike here.”

“I could see if I could fit it in the back-“

“Not that kind of bike.” You pointed to your baby, basking in the dim street light, a black beauty even in the flickering orange.

“You ride a motorcycle?!”

You loved getting that reaction; you didn’t have that cool edge that a lot of biker chicks had, so you’d settle for being able to surprise them.

“Hop on.”

“…you wouldn’t happen to have an extra helmet would you?”

“What’s the matter? Scared?”

He shook his head ruefully. “Well, let me get something from my car first.”

“Sure.”

As he headed off, you wondered how it would feel to have someone’s arms around you as you steered. Probably pretty nice.

 

 

“It’s a shame what’s happened in your town.”

“Mhm.” You tugged on his locks gently as you kissed him. It was even better than you’d imagined.

“Is that a picture of the first victim on your shelf?”

You pulled away and gave him a strange look. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just curious.”

You nodded slowly, before leaning forward to meet his lips once more.

You resisted the urge to bite down on his bottom lip; probably not something he’d be into. He looked too clean-cut.

Maybe you should’ve stuck to his brother. The assholes were usually pretty good at the dirtier stuff.

Still, this one tasted sweet.

 

“Sorry to ask, but why do you have a picture of just him? He was married, wasn’t he?”

You rolled your eyes and backed up from the wall you’d pressed him against.

“And his wife murdered him. What’s your point?”

“It’s still strange. Did you have feelings for him?”

You scoffed. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Sam Smith. Agent Sam Smith.”

“Figures.” You’d heard talk that FBI was in town, but you didn’t take to rumors much. Your bad. “If you wanted to question me, you didn’t have to pick me up in a bar.”

“That’s not why-“ he stopped, trying to find a way to convince you that his intentions had been pure. Well, pure enough.

You believed him.

“Yes, I loved Connor. But seeing as I didn’t pop up immediately on your list of suspects, you should know I kept my distance. His crazy bitch wife didn’t exactly like me hanging around.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I had to ask. This must be a hard time for you.”

“I was on my third drink when you came in. So, yes, I’d say it’s been hard.”

He apologized once more, before snapping his head up. “Wait, you drove home.”

You tilted your head back and let out a hollow laugh.

Today was turning out to be such a great day. Not.

“So arrest me.” You held your wrists in front of you, watching for his reaction.

You didn’t expect him to smile.

“I think we can let it slide, just this once, (y/n).”

“Well, then, let me show you my gratitude.”

 

Rolling around on your bed, you took in his frame. More than a couple scars, and definitely not from bullets either.

There was probably more to Agent Smith than he let on. If his name was even Smith.

But you didn’t expect honesty from men you met through alcohol.

“Tell me something about you, (y/n).”

“That’s not really how this works, you know.”

You felt his laugh against your collarbone and shivered involuntarily. “Humor me.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Exactly.”

So you figured you’d show him.

 

 

“Fuck!”

He stared at you in confusion as you clutched your bleeding arm. You wished, among other things, that there was a bigger expletive than the same one he’d used earlier when you nipped his neck. He was considerably less pissed then, than you were now.

“You’re…not it?”

“Not what?!” You reached over your bedside stand to grab a lamp.

“Wait! I’m sorry! Look, I’m putting down the knife.” He dropped it and kicked it over to you quickly. You held onto the lamp with one hand.

“Is it FBI protocol to stab women you’re going to sleep with?!”

“It’s not… I’m not FBI.” Apparently that was the first sentence he could offer as explanation.

“Well, then, what are you?”

“It’s complicated.” He looked at his feet, hemming and hawing. You picked up the knife and tilted it in the light, watching it glimmer. Pretty.

 

“We’re actually looking for a siren.”

“…the kind off a squad car?”

“…it’s a mythical creature that hypnotizes men or women into doing their evil bidding. Usually killing people.”

You stared at him with your mouth open. “…and what made you think it was me??”

“You said, ‘I’m glad that bitch finally did what I told her to.’”

This one was dense. Really dense. “Yes. I told her to go to hell. And believe me, for a pampered brat like her, jail will be worse than hell for her.”

“Oh.”

 

You looked at your arm now. It probably wouldn’t need stitches, but it sure was ugly. “We done here?”

“Yeah.” He grasped for the right words to express his apology. There weren’t really any for ‘sorry I tried to kill you because I thought you were a monster,’ though. So you waved him off.

“Don’t bother. Still better than my last date.”

“…really?”

“No.”

He sighed and held out his hand for the knife. You twirled it between your fingers, hesitating. It looked special, somehow. “Gold?”

“Bronze.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“Just part of the lore.”

“…whatever.” You handed it to him, before heading to the bathroom to disinfect the crap out of your wound.

He followed you, hoping he could help with something, like bandaging.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot. Well, don’t literally.”

He let out a grimace, which made you feel better.

“How come you heard me out after I cut you? Most people would’ve run and called the cops.”

“If FBI is stabbing people, I don’t think the local PD would know what to do,” you drawled.

He unrolled the gauze from your medicine cabinet and motioned for you to give him your arm. You did so gingerly.

“Well, why didn’t you run?” He took one look at your stony face and spoke quickly. “You know what, it’s not my business.”

“Yes, you’ve done enough I’d say.”

 

 

This night was already a wash, but you didn’t expect his brother to come bumbling through your door just now. Now you’d have to ask the landlord to fix that, too.

“Sam! Watch out! The dagger has to be dipped in blood or else it won’t work-“ He stopped when he saw you walk out with a mummy-wrapped arm. “Oh.”

“Yep.” You gave him the stank-eye as Sam walked out chagrinned.

“So I take it she’s not the-“

“No.”

“I’ll just leave you two-“

“You do that, Dean.”

Dean, apparently, nodded embarrassed, and turned tail for a second. “Wait, the dagger-“

“Out!!”

 

“I can’t express how sorry I am about all this, (y/n).”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and poured yourself a glass of scotch. You deserved it.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You leaned against the headboard and let out a laugh. He appeared taken aback.

It was fucking priceless.

“Anything you can do?”

“…” he wrung his hands as he waited cautiously for what you had to say.

“You want to know why I didn’t run, ‘Agent Smith’?”

“It’s just Sam. Really.”

 

 

“The man I loved was murdered by the woman I hated the most. I thought the hardest thing I’d ever have to do was give him up. To her.

If you love someone enough, you just want them to be happy. So when she told me to split so they could be a couple in peace, I split.

And in the end, the woman who was supposed to make him happy instead of me, cuts out his heart and eats it.

 

You tell me why I should run, Sam.

Better yet, you tell me why I should live.”

 

 

You fell onto the bed, then, exhausted, letting out an occasional bitter chuckle.

Five minutes passed before you realized he hadn’t left yet.

He approached you slowly, like he didn’t want to scare you. You didn’t have the energy to be, anyway.

“If I may be frank, (y/n)…”

“Why not? You already almost murdered me, anyway.”

He bit his sweet lips, then, and you had a wry thought that after everything he was the best damn kisser that you’d ever met.

“You have so much to live for. You are an amazing woman, and everyone can see it. Don’t ever let go of that.”

“So my push-up bra caught the eye of you and your brother. Not much of a motivational speech, but okay.”

He shook his head adamantly, and if you weren’t so drained you’d find it cute.

 

 

“You want to know why I thought you were the siren? Because the siren imitates what the victim wants most.”

 

 

“You being the victim, here?” You kept your cold front, but something about his words was unsettling you.

 

“(Y/n). You are more than I’ve ever imagined in a woman.”

 

You wanted to roll your eyes; it was such a corny line. So why did he look so sincere when he said it.

“You barely know me.”

“I know.” The regret in his voice couldn’t be real, could it? “And I wish I had the chance… the privilege-“

You cleared your throat as you saw his brother walk back in. Although you would’ve done it anyway, the way he was going. No stranger had the right to make a girl feel the way his words were taking you.

“Sam, we have to go.”

“Just take the goddamn dagger, Dean.”

“No, Sam-“

 

“Go.” He looked at you with uncertainty, so you pointed to the door to emphasize the point.

 

“Sorry about this, ma’am.”

“Sure, Dean.”

He gave you a friendly wave and jogged out. His brother, probably younger now that you thought about it, was still dragging his feet.

Your voice softened without your permission.

 

“Go save the world, Sam.”

 

And with a sad smile, he was off, with the last kiss on your cheek lingering long after.

 

 

You took a shot now, brushing off the hand of some stranger trying to take you home. You were drinking alone tonight.

You closed your eyes and swirled the bitter liquid around your mouth, replaying the scene where you’d met a mysterious man at the strangest time.

The sermon at Connor’s funeral, the stories you’d heard in Group Therapy, faded away as you ran your hands along the counter. Remembering the way his hair had felt between your fingers.

 

It’s too bad that the nights are mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day.

 

Do you ever think about me too, Sam?

Do you ever think about coming back?

 

**Do I wanna know?**

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> SORRYYYYY BUT NOT SORRYYY BUT STILL SORRYYYYYy
> 
> give me some love below!!
> 
>  
> 
> Random ramblings:  
> Quick poll 1: WHICH PART HURT THE MOST?!  
> mine is probably 'i wish i had the chance, the privilege"  
> IT HURTS GODDAMNIT
> 
> i can't help it, sometimes i just write a shitload of angst
> 
> quick poll 2: favorite part?  
> mine is probably when you hold out your wrists and say 'so arrest me'  
> so flirty. so cute.
> 
> fyi when Sam goes back to the car, it's to get the dagger. just in case.  
> you're not a suspect to begin with, it's just once he sees you're deeply connected to Connor, then he gets suspicious.  
> of course when he hears "glad that bitch finally did what i told her to" he thinks its a siren command. which i guess makes sense.
> 
> i thought it was clever how i used the one 'fuck!' to describe both sammy getting surprised by you biting him and by him stabbing you. no the two are not related, they're just fun to compare in the same sentence.
> 
> mindfuck was when he stabs you.. because yeah. that was dumb. also possibly when you find out that connor's wife cut out his heart and ate it. well, you as the readers. not you as the character.  
> i figured since sirens like it when their victims do crazy ugly shit, we'd throw that in. can we say eat your heart out? ;) what, too soon? sorry
> 
> quick poll 3: SEQUEL?!?!?! i need to stop asking this... it makes it hard to not write a sequel. tell me what you want/envision happening after. or if you think this is painfully good as a one-shot.
> 
> this song hit me really hard when i heard it, and i've been meaning to write some sam/reader so it just kind of fit. was originally thinking of making it dean/reader since dean is the playboy who could probably wreck a girl emotionally without much effort. in the end, this is what i came up with, which i feel was pretty creative =)
> 
> til next time, lovelies!!! gimme a shoutout below!
> 
> XOXO Bucky the Mindfucker


End file.
